


Cocoa Beach

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Earth, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Blood, No DADT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 14:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: A chance meeting on a wind-swept beach leads to romance for a cranky NASA scientist and a hot-shot pilot.Fluff Bingo Square:  Walk on the Beach





	Cocoa Beach

**Author's Note:**

> Everything I learned about NASA I learned from "I Dream of Jeannie."
> 
> Beta by em-kellesvig.
> 
> For [Just Write!](https://discord.gg/PcF4aB9) Fluff Bingo.

"'Go to the beach, Carter says. Take the weekend off, McKay. We're not going to solve the power problem in a single day.' What does she know? Flashy Air Force consultant," Rodney muttered as he slogged up the, okay, very pretty coastline of Cocoa Beach. "Sand in my shoes, and the heat—don't get me started. I'll have sun stroke before I even make it back to the cabana—oh, hello." 

Rodney shaded his eyes—needlessly, considering the floppy hat and sunglasses—to take in the jogger approaching in blue swim trunks, his messy, sweaty hair shivering back and forth in the wind as he labored through the surf. God, those thighs. His calves, though, seemed a bit skinny, Rodney thought critically. Still, they might do nicely wrapped around Rodney's hips. 

"Ow!" Rodney stumbled and looked down. He'd cut himself on a clam shell. He sat down abruptly in the sand. "Ow-ow-ow. What a fine mess. Instant gangrene, that's what that is," he said, possibly a little loudly, because Blue Trunks, every sweaty inch, was suddenly kneeling beside him.

"What's the status?" 

"Oh, God, you're military, aren't you?" Rodney's mouth blabbed without a single ounce of permission from his brain, his eyes drifting toward the dog tags swinging from the man's nicely hairy chest. 

"Yes?" Trunks smiled at him, lopsided and amused, and Rodney smirked back helplessly. 

"I just...sorry, I'm sorry. I work with Air Force all day long, that's all." A pretty nice save, Rodney thought, but from the raised eyebrows, Trunks wasn't falling for it.

"Uh-huh. Major John Sheppard. USAF," he said, offering a hand. 

Rodney took it, saying, "Dr. Rodney McKay, PhD, PhD. In uh, Aerospace Engineering and Physics."

Sheppard raised his eyebrows. "But not in walking, apparently." He looked down at Rodney's foot. "Ouch. You should've said something. Let's get this cleaned off." He swung his water bottle around on its little strap and offered it to Rodney. "Want the last of it?"

"Do I want your used spit? No, thanks," Rodney said, and Sheppard laughed.

"Well, I guess that answers that question," he said before drinking the last of the water.

"Wait, what?"

"I'll be right back." Sheppard slapped Rodney's shoulder and ran to the surf.

"There's a spit question?" Rodney said to himself, because no way did Sheppard mean...of course not. Rodney was dressed in his tourist gear, purchased in the Kennedy Space Center gift shop, because he hadn't packed for a day in the sun. He had on a NASA polo shirt, a NASA visor, and was carrying his flip-flops, flip-phone, and sundries in his Astro Cats tote bag. The only way he could look geekier is if he'd worn SpaceX shorts. 

"Here you go," Sheppard said, kneeling beside him once again. "This will sting a little, but salt water is good for cleaning out bacteria."

"What are you, an herbalist? Fine. Do it," Rodney said, biting his lip.

Sheppard held Rodney's foot in his warm hand and poured the salt water over the sandy wound. Rodney barely screamed when he pulled out the piece of clam shell.

"I'm gonna squeeze to bleed it a little."

"Ugh," Rodney said, looking up. "Just..." He waved his hand. 

"'Kay." Sheppard smiled and focused on Rodney's foot. "You should let me help you get back to your car. Otherwise, you'll just get it all dirty again."

"I'm staying over there." Rodney pointed to the hotel. 

Sheppard craned his head to take a look. "Oh, yeah? Pretty swanky."

"Well, I'm a genius. People tend to appreciate that."

"Oh, they do, do they?" Sheppard hadn't stopped looking amused since he came over. Usually, Rodney had the opposite effect. Whatever he was doing, he hoped he could keep it up.

"Look, I think I owe you for the medical attention, so if you provide the ambulatory service, the least I can do is buy you dinner," Rodney said, then held his breath.

Sheppard tilted his head. "You don't have to do that."

"What if I said I wanted to?" Rodney winced when it came out a little strangled.

"Then I'd say, thanks, I'd like that," Sheppard said. He stood and offered Rodney a hand, helping him to his good foot and pulling Rodney's arm over his shoulder. Rodney's bag swung, throwing him off balance, and Sheppard took that, too. "Astro Cats, huh?"

"Cats have a historic relationship with NASA and the space program," Rodney said defensively.

"I think it's cool. Nice bag."

"Oh. Thanks." 

They made their slow way diagonally toward the hotel's beach entrance.

"So, Air Force," Rodney said casually. "Are you a pilot?"

"Yup. Based out at Cape Canaveral. Can't really say more."

"Oh. Huh." Rodney mulled that over. Sheppard was probably part of the heavy payload program. "I'm tired," Rodney said. "And hot."

"We're almost there." Sheppard took a little more of his weight. "Hey, where can I get a shirt like yours?"

"You're kidding, right? You work ten miles down the street. The Space Center gift shop."

"Ah." Sheppard grunted. "I've never been. The guys said it was kind of cheesy."

"Forgive me, but why the hell should you care what a bunch of idiots think?"

Sheppard scratched his head and grinned. "You make a good point. Guess I'll head over there tomorrow morning after you and I have breakfast."

"What?"

Sheppard chuckled and eased him down into a chair beneath an umbrella. "Hang on right here, and I'll get the steward with a first aid kit." Sheppard jogged off, his water bottle bouncing against the very nice curve of his lower back.

"He didn't mean that like it sounded," Rodney muttered. "I'm feverish from a deadly clam virus. I'm... Oh my God, I'm so pathetic." He pulled out his laptop and started working on the power supply equation he'd been banging his head against for the last three days. It still was wrong, wrong, wrong. How? He hit return, but the results remained unchanged.

"Uh, not to butt in or anything..."

"Hey! This is classified! Not that...well, I suppose you can't glean a whole lot from a fragment of an equation, but you really shouldn't be looking over people's shoulders like that, it's not couth—"

"I just wanted to point out," Sheppard said patiently, nudging a glass of ice water into Rodney's hand, "that your screen is dirty. There's a speck of something that looks like a minus sign before the 'b', but it's on the screen. See?" He brushed his fingertip over the screen and Rodney blinked.

The equation was wrong. Like a dream, Rodney applied the cursor and added a negative, then hit return. 

"Oh, you beauty." 

"Thanks," Sheppard said wryly. 

"I wasn't talking to you, although—" 

"Sir, I heard you have an injury?"

Rodney looked up. A mustachioed interloper in a white shirt with a red badge pronouncing him Nurse Javier held up a first aid kit. 

"Yeah. He stepped on a broken clam shell. I washed it out with sea water but haven't done anything else."

"Good. I'll take a look."

Disappointed at the interruption, Rodney put up with Javier's ministrations with ill grace. Sheppard, however, seemed amused and sat on another chair leafing through a golf magazine he'd found on a side table. Every so often, when Rodney made a noise of complaint, he'd look over and smile reassuringly.

"Buck up, Rodney. It's almost over."

"But he keeps _poking_. Is it all really necessary?"

"You don't want to get gangrene, do you?" 

Rodney ignored the laughter in Sheppard's voice. "It's a very real possibility."

"There you go." Sheppard nodded. "Thank Javier for taking such good care of your foot."

"Thanks, Javier."

Javier flashed a pretty smile. "You're welcome. I will put this on your bill. Please be careful to keep walking to a minimum until your wound has healed, Mr. McKay."

"That's 'Doctor'..." Rodney was left talking to Javier's back. "Well, anyway, he didn't do too bad a job with the bandage. I should still be able to make it to dinner." Rodney's voice rose against his will.

But Sheppard smiled, looking pretty damned please. "I'll wear my favorite shirt."

"Yes, please do wear a shirt," Rodney said. "Not that, well, I mind, terribly."

Sheppard's grin broadened ridiculously. "Good to know."

Rodney shoved him. "Go. Shower or something. I'll meet you at six."

"Don't you want me to help you to your room?" Sheppard's voice dropped into a husky range that did terrible things to Rodney's nervous system.

"I'm not that easy. You'll have to let me buy you dinner first."

Sheppard's grin softened. "Roger that." He stood up and leaned over, his dog tags bouncing gently against Rodney's shoulder as he gave Rodney one soft, warm kiss before pulling back. "Just in case you die of clam poisoning before our date." Sheppard winked.

"Funny man," Rodney said breathlessly.

"I try. See you later, McKay."

"Later," Rodney said, and watched Sheppard jog away as the sun set. Rodney had a feeling Sheppard would be back right on time, and their date would be fantastic.

But then again, it could be the fever talking. 

............................  
June 29, 2019  
San Francisco, CA

**Author's Note:**

> SPACE CATS!!! [No cats were harmed in the filming of this, but they do look a little discombobulated](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O9XtK6R1QAk).


End file.
